


Lines of Regret

by HallaMothers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallaMothers/pseuds/HallaMothers
Summary: His heart clenched, he didn’t deserve to touch her so; but even still when contact was lost he hurt, but his grin stayed. “How do you know spirits don’t have elaborate parties?” He tried to match her playful tone. His mind, had wandered to the Evanuris, how like mortal men they had been in attitude—in treachery. It was a fun reminder of his freer days, but also of how much the world had change, and had stayed the same.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 7





	Lines of Regret

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just dipping my toes into DA fic writing, this is mostly internal word vomit but it was fun to write. Go easy on me I haven't written solas before lol.

His slender finger gentle traced the inked lines on the inquisitor’s face; her eyes squinted affectionately—not so unlike a cat. Solas found the expression endearing, amusing. To her, his gesture must have seemed one of affection, and perhaps it was but he also regret how much she didn’t know. How much he wanted to tell her but could never bring himself to say. What would he even say, but—that wasn’t important at this very moment, instead he would allow himself this pleasure of her company in the little dusty library far below the surface of the hold.

“You know, Vhenan, the spirits were rather entertained by the affairs of the nobles in Halamshiral.” The apostate grinned, still tracing the lines this time with the intent to tickle her skin just a little; he enjoyed the giggles he could draw out when he touched her just so.

“Oh?” She smiled, “And what would spirits know about treachery at the ball.” In truth, it had all been very confusing to her—the way humans hid behind their flowered words and gilded masks, her people never did that sort of thing it seemed unnecessary, wasteful even. A soft giggle as she playfully slapped his hand away, he had found just the spot.

His heart clenched, he didn’t deserve to touch her so; but even still when contact was lost he hurt, but his grin stayed. “How do you know spirits don’t have elaborate parties?” He tried to match her playful tone. His mind, had wandered to the Evanuris, how like mortal men they had been in attitude—in treachery. It was a fun reminder of his freer days, but also of how much the world had change, and had stayed the same. His other hand lifted, tracing the other side of her face—the elaborate markings; one that spoke of Dirthamen keeper of secrets; it was almost hilarious, she was so open with her thoughts...so free of secrets and yet she was marked for the keeper of secrets. “Perhaps spirits have even more grandiose gatherings.”

“I’m not the Spirit expert between the two of us.” It was the truth, she was next in line to be keeper—but her knowledge paled in comparison to his; at first it came off as condescending, impolite—but now it read as endearing, genuine as if he wanted to share the world with her. Often she found herself sneaking from duties to listen to his spiels anything and everything fade, never once really questioning how he had learned so much past the dreaming. Moments where he crossed into the territory of too enthusiastic, he would remind her of her duty and send her off. It was almost as if even now having shared so much of each other he was keeping her at arms length. As if he was afraid for an all in, but she was never one to push it—she didn’t want him to slip through her fingers. There were moments where he was the most solid person near her; an anchor for her to cling to in the strongest storms and other times he was as barely there as the early morning mists easily chased away by sunlight.

“I think, my heart, you know more than you think you might.” He traced his way towards the center of her face, her skin soft under the finger tip before lightly tapping her on the nose. “Besides myself and perhaps Cole, you might be most knowledgeable or at the very least most open to learning.” Another tap on the tip of her nose. It was genuinely a compliment; but even he knew it sounded a little bad to put himself above her in a compliment, but sometimes he lacked a little in charisma. Perhaps not giving her the pinnacle of compliments would run her off—and so desperately he wanted her to run, but he wanted her so much nearer than she was in this moment. It was cruelty to himself and most importantly, to her. His finger went back to tracing the lines; as disgusted as he was at the markings—the lies her people believed, he wanted to commit every pore, every line, every ink stain to memory. Even so, she was radiant—beautiful.

“Oh for once Solas, know-er of the fade doesn’t want to share. Did I perhaps leave the real Solas behind and now have some strange body double in my presence.” She said, her grin widening revealing a small gap in the front of her teeth. Of course she was teasing, but she hoped this time he would stay alone with her long enough. “All’s well! _Ma Vhenan,_ I don’t need to know anyway. Keep your secrets!” The inquisitor leaned into his touch. There was nothing she loved more then the sensation of his delicate fingers on her skin. At this moment, she was more at peace than she had been in so long. Lavellan felt like, for a second she was a normal woman—no responsibilities, being cared for by the only person she had ever loved so intensely.

Solas watched her face, wanting to feel her contentment the same was she so freely showed it. Maybe he would be selfish and try to take the contentment from her—it wouldn’t be his first or last instance of selfishness; what was once more? It was a problem for future him to concern over, for now he was going to push the regret deep down and just be the apostate she knew him to be. Finger tracing down to her chin, he lifted the inquisitors head ever so slightly. Admiring her for a moment longer, he leaned in—his lips brushing against hers ever so slightly, afraid if he went full in right now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself and the last barrier he had erected between the two of them would crumble. He knew he couldn’t pull her down into his own self destruction; his own plan, his own villainy no matter what his heart desired.

Lavellan allowed herself to fall into the kiss; as she always did. Her lips locked with his so perfectly, as if there wasn’t another person alive that would fit with her. The inquisitor’s fingers tangled into the front of his shirt, a sign to say please don’t leave this time. Her tongue slowly traced the contour of his lower lip—she was ready to give him her all right now; he need only asked her too. Something she knew he wouldn’t; but she could pretend—she was already pretending to know how to be in charge, what’s a little more make believe?

Solas met her tongue with his. Oh how he loved her kisses, he desired them above all else. Dropping his hands to her waist, he pulled her closer—against him; almost as if their souls could mingle together like this—flee from their destined paths together. It was a fantasy, one so far removed from reality, but he wasn’t above wandering minds. His lips moved against hers before he pulled back for air, and to admire the darkening of her cheeks. “You are so beautiful.” His face was crestfallen, pained but he pulled her in for another suffocating kiss before she could even register his expression, she needn’t know and needn’t worry.

The inquisitor felt all consumed, the world fading away as their lips met again as if it might be the last time. Anytime could potentially be the last time, but she detected a sadness she wouldn’t pry into in his gesture. Instead, she was letting herself get lost in him not wanting to scare him off by asking. Her hands found their way to either side of his face, and her lips started tracing down towards his jaw to soft hums of approval from Solas. Affectionately, she kissed a line up his jaw, and then back down. His grip tightening around her.

He was ready to go down with this sinking ship—it felt so good, it felt so correct, but finally his conscience won out and he cleared his throat and pushed her back ever so slight knowing he was about to see a look of rejection in her eyes. “I think, maybe we both have duties to attend to.” It wasn’t a lie, he had seen the spymaster looking for her before meeting her here—but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, and he hated doing this to her. Deep down, he was scared—scared of her, scared of himself, scared of his future and scared of the hurt he was causing her. “I promised to write a report on the tears in the fade.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And I think it’s wanted soon. I’m sorry Ma Vhenan, it’s for the best.” Solas wasn’t going to elaborate, he wasn’t going to face her. Instead, he turned and walked for the door, heart breaking at the soft and dejected ‘Okay’ uttered from the woman he loved. Always he would cause pain, and always he was too selfish to ever put and end to it when necessary. “I will see you later, and please do come see me later.”

And again, he was gone -- slipping right through her fingers. And still, she would chase for him later. A sigh, and she blew out the candles—leaving her little make believe world for the world that caused so much pain.


End file.
